PORTLAND
We all went to see "Eyes Wide Shut" late the night before I took off for Brazil. The pennyroyal "we" being Bethany, Cian, Jon, Kate, Megan, Tigun and me. Opening night. The Broadway Theatre was stuffed to capacity and the BTU heat output of the cinetorium was steamier than the movie itself. Intermittently throughout the jumbo-sized film, the sound system would blurt out a farty noise. Jon and I convinced ourselves later that the heat and noise were both part of some elaborately planned movie experience masterminded by Kubrick himself. Maybe they were manifestations of Kubrick's ghost reaching back from beyond the grave to protest the final cut of the film (which placed cloaked figures conspicuously in front of "key scenes", supposedly to achieve an "R" rating).

It wasn't until after one that we got out of that easy-bake oven and onto the mean streets of Portland. I then had my first experience of cruising teens on Broadway. Throngs of overtly fashionable youth, some in loud glistening vehicles, gathered in obnoxious clouds. We navigated the sea of hormonal anthropology wondering what Desmond Morris might be saying as narration.

Bethany caught one of the last 15's back to her place. We all waited with her at the stop. It hit me then that I was actually going away for a month. It wasn't a drill. Numbness as several emotions smashed into one another.

Back at the Compound there was yet another evil party going on at the evil club and the evil guy who owns the evil club stood evilly in the hall telling us politely that he'd turn the evil music down if it was too loud.

See: The Compound Saga.

I got 52.5 evil minutes of sleep before I stumbled out to the bus stop: sad, tired, excited, anticipating a long plane trip. My defensive numb had worn off a little in my sleep. Dawn sky adventure. Twilight mope.

Standing at the stop, a group of people from the evil party loped past me into the 24hr Mexican place on the corner. One of the group, a dark haired girl, came out to smoke.

"You going to work?" she asked.

"No. I'm going to Brazil, actually. Visiting friends."

"No way! Great!" She reached out to shake my hand in congratulation. "Where are ygonnggtrrrr?"

"Huh?"

"Where are you going there?"

"Oh. Porto Alegre, Buenos Aires, Sao Paulo, some other places. Busing around."

"Awesome! Well, have fun, keep it real!"

She went back inside then. As I was taking my seat in the bus, the girl and her friends were waving at me, shaking their fists in the air and giving me the "rock on" gesture. I smiled genuinely and waved back as the 12 pulled away. Good good omen. No, really.

THE FRIENDLY SKIES
I sat squished between a business man and a frat boy all the way to Newark. There was a bit of drama as stormy skies blocked our direct approach to our intended destination. There was talk of landing in Chicago, then in Buffalo... all simultaneous to talk of "not having enough fuel" to sustain many such delays. In the end, the weather broke and our pilot got us into Newark just in time for my five hour layover.

My world was filled with delight when I found out that I, indeed, had a window seat to Sao Paulo, way in the back of the plane. My seatmate was a Dutch-American named Remco.

Remco's got a homepage.

He was friendly, intelligent and talkative. We chatted into the night, even though we were both pretty tired. We exchanged stories about stinky mice, a line of conversation sparked somehow by my vegetarian meal. He's a mechanical engineer. He likes engines. I bored him with talk about Perl and SITO when we eventually got to the topic of computers.

Tried to watch part of "My Favorite Martian" which ended up being an even more intolerable movie than I anticipated.

Next - Porto Alegre